LOGINDrugs disappeared during one of our family’s deals—and everyone knew it was my stepsister, Emily’s fault. Now, our rivals demanded someone be sent to them, held captive until the debt was repaid. My fiancé, my family—they all agreed it should be me. “Emily already got hurt in the mission. You are stronger. You can handle it while we figure things out.” I knew this moment was coming. And so I signed my name. In five days, I’d be sent away. And I have decided that no matter what happened—whether I lived or died—I was done with my family and my fiancé. In those last days, I gave everything I owned away. The casino? To my stepsister, who had always eyed it with envy. My checking account? To my father, who never missed a chance to remind me how useless I was. The engagement ring? Back to the man who’d been fake as hell. They didn’t notice anything off. They just smiled, pleased with how thoughtful I’d suddenly become. When they realized I was gone for good—and that their fragile Emily was their undoing—would they still smile like that? Would they still look so content?
View MoreAria’s POVThe Ricci met me with a private plane. It felt absurdly luxurious—private jets and silk napkins, as if I were an honored guest rather than a hostage.“Come, Miss Moretti. Mr. Ricci awaits you in his study.”I nodded. On the flight I’d run through a dozen escape plans. Offer to work for him. Offer my father’s contacts. Betray my father if that’s what it took. He hadn’t hesitated to betray me—why should I spare him?The car stopped. The butler opened my door and the manor rose before me—bigger and more beautiful than I expected. The maid greeted me with a sweet smile, “Miss Moretti—Mr. Ricci said a very beautiful lady would be visiting.”The politeness soothed me, perversely. If these people were kind, perhaps their master was kind too.A small, ridiculous hope fluttered.The maid led me up to the third floor. We paused at a giant redwood door. Her gesture told me to enter. My hand found the cold brass.He sat behind a desk—young, impossibly young—no more than twenty-five, i
Damian’s POVThree days later I found Emily at a resort, sunshine painting her hair gold, a smile flickering across her face when she saw me. I said nothing. I just turned to the guards and gave the order: “Get her.”She was less terrified than I expected. Maybe she’d expected this outcome and had rehearsed it a thousand times. She begged, then—quick, practiced—“Did something happen? Please, tell me. I’m so scared.”I didn’t answer. I hauled her back to the Moretti house and threw her onto the carpet. The video still looped on the screen behind us; the grainy images made the room feel smaller, colder. Her smile faded as she looked around, the first real fear searing through her.Michael rose like a man on a wire, every line of his face shadowed. He looked as if he might strike her where she lay.“Where did you go, Emily?” Michael asked, his voice low and hard, grief braided with something far darker.“Father, I was—” Emily began, sobbing.“Don’t you dare call me ‘father,’” he snapped.
Damian’s POV“A box. USBs, documents, a tape. I was about to call. Can you pick it up today?”“Yes.”When I told Michael, he said he wanted to come along.We agreed not to open the box until everyone gathered. Michael called Elara and Emily. Elara went white at the photo; Emily didn’t answer—probably busy at the casino. Michael decided we wouldn’t wait.The three of us—Elara, Michael, and I—sat in the Moretti study with the box between us. It felt too light, as if it shouldn’t contain anything worth shouting about.I lifted the lid. Inside: a handful of USBs, a neat stack of documents, and an old video tape.“Watch the video first,” Michael said, voice husky. “I need to hear her voice.”We fed the tape into the player. The room seemed to shrink around the screen as the static cleared and the footage began to roll.The face on the monitor wasn’t Aria’s. It was Emily’s—grainy, raw, utterly merciless in its clarity. She lay on a bed, her legs swathed in casts. A boy sat beside her, half-s
Damian’s POVI went home, trying to calm myself down.On the coffee table was a photo frame Aria had picked. Us at an amusement park. Her smile that day was so bright, so unguarded, it felt like seeing a version of her no one else ever did.Looking at it now, regret hit me like a punch. Regret for letting her go. For not stopping her. Even if it meant pushing Emily into the Riccis’ hands—hadn’t she been the one to ruin the transaction in the first place?I shook my head, forcing the thought away. What mattered now was getting Aria back.I hesitated before making the call, but eventually I dialed my father. I lied—told him I’d found a new business opportunity. Maybe he was impressed by my work with the Morettis, he didn’t question it. Within hours, the money was transferred.I went straight to Michael. “I have the money. Let’s call the Ricci. Pay them, and bring Aria home.”His face split into a relieved smile. “Thank you. Truly.”He dialed, put the call on speaker. “I’m calling on beha












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